


The Bone Meadows

by Jade_II



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_II/pseuds/Jade_II
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hello, babyface,” she says, trying not to let her tone betray how much she would have preferred to meet a different version of him today.</p><p>“Doctor Song,” he says, attempting to sound cordial but with a grin in his voice, bursting with curiosity. Maybe he’ll do after all, she muses. “Welcome to the Bone Meadows.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bone Meadows

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this a long long time ago. You may notice :)
> 
> Many thanks to Charina as always! And remaining mistakes are mine all mine.

She buries him.

 

Oh, bodies aren’t important, et cetera et cetera – but he has one, all the same. The last of many. She’s always suspected that this one was it, somehow. She’s seen so little of this him, and yet he is so much older than all the others. He always tries to hide it, but she looks into his eyes and she _knows_. She always knows. She’s been able to read him like a book for a good long while now; a battered, blue little book which has travelled farther than any other.

 

When they compare diaries there’s rarely an entry she can mention that doesn’t have a counterpart in his. Somehow she finds that comforting and sad at the same time.

 

So it’s not a surprise when, at Trenzalore, the inevitable finally happens.

 

They win the fight, but most of the combatants are dead by the end in any case.

 

And the Doctor has bullets lodged in both his hearts and he can’t regenerate.

 

He’s so _calm_ , almost quietly amused by the whole thing, so River does her best to keep smiling, to crack jokes, to pretend that everything is okay even as they say what they both know must be goodbye.

 

And afterwards, as usual, she’s left to clean up his mess. This may be the one time she really doesn’t feel she can hold it against him.

 

The TARDIS is gone too – before him or after him or at the same time, River isn’t sure. But it’s fitting, she’s sure they would agree, that his timestream stay with his ship. Now they are truly inseperable.

 

His body, on the other hand…

 

She doesn’t want him rotting on the battlefield like a soldier. He always hated that label, and there are so many other ones to choose from. Too many, perhaps. Besides, she can’t leave him where anyone could find him. His DNA alone holds secrets that are best left undiscovered.

 

His face is blank, now, and she almost feels like she’s looking at a stranger. Perhaps it’s because he’s had so many of them, and she has never associated _him_ with any particular body. And now he’s shed this one as well. She could make up any story to fit this man and find no reason for it not to be true. He could be anyone, anywhere in the universe.

 

The smile spreads unbidden across her face, and she holds him close and presses a last kiss to his forehead as she keys in coordinates to her vortex manipulator. She won’t be able to stay long, less than a second, just long enough to let go, but _he_ …

 

She leaves him at the beginning of the universe, at a moment when he’s the biggest thing in it, and when she arrives back at Trenzalore it’s as though she can still feel him.

 

All of time and space are his, more than ever before. Any time, anywhere, a part of him will be there. He has always been everywhere.

 

And his DNA will have broken up into atoms long before anyone could ever care to look.

 

River lies down in the blood-soaked grass and breathes deeply.

 

There’s just one more thing she wants to do; for herself more than for him.

 

She puts another grave next to his and marks it with her own name. Plus a few extras, because you never know. It’s sentimental and stupid and exactly what she needs right now.

 

And she goes back to Stormcage and, to her own surprise, cries all night.

 

 

The next morning she jumps out of bed, grabs her gun, and unceremoniously uses it to reach through the bars and clobber the guard who is standing there gawking at the tear tracks on her cheeks.

 

She feels the need to go out and kill something.

 

 

Instead, she finds the Doctor.

 

Not straight away, it has to be said. It takes her a while to spot him in the dark of the Vengusian night, even with the stark contrast of their polished white surroundings against the black sky. Her footsteps crunch on the ground as she walks towards him, and he turns from whatever he’s looking at as though he’s been expecting her.

 

 

 

_The first time she meets him after_ _Berlin_ _she doesn’t recognise him._

_She’s trotting down the steps in front of the main university building, silently fuming because of a comment her professor has written on the essay she’s just been given back – historically inaccurate? Really? And who, out of the two of them, actually grew up on Earth in the 1990’s? – and she’s not sure she would have noticed him at all if not for the way he’s looking at her._

_He’s staring. Sitting on a bench at the side of the quad, under a honey blossom tree, staring and, just about, smiling._

_Her feet slow of her own accord and she comes to a stop in front of him, narrowing her eyes. “Can I help you?”_

_His trace of a smile becomes a twitch of the lips. “Oh, I expect so. You usually can.”_

_“What do you mean?” She doesn’t move, flexing her fingers under her bag, ready to reach for her gun. Just in case._

_“Well.” He stands – slowly, with his hands clearly visible, as though he knows what she’s thinking – and shrugs. “It’s my friend’s birthday today. I need to buy her something. And it’s quite important, you see, because not many people have bought her presents before. Only I don’t have a clue what to get.” He grins. “But you might, Melody Pond.”_

_She doesn’t ask any more questions, just goes for the gun – or tries to. It’s gone, and as she’s trying to process that fact he stands and wraps his arms around her from the back, bringing his fingertips up to brush against her forehead and whispering into her ear and into her mind – “Hush, dear. It’s me.”_

 

 

“Hello, babyface,” she says, trying not to let her tone betray how much she would have preferred to meet a different version of him today.

 

“Doctor Song,” he says, attempting to sound cordial but with a grin in his voice, bursting with curiosity. Maybe he’ll do after all, she muses. “Welcome to the Bone Meadows.” He spreads his arms and she grins too, reaching for her diary.

 

“Where are we, then?” she enquires, noting the shiny new look of the book he pulls out of his pocket and begins to leaf through. Lots of empty pages, there; not like the one she left behind at Trenzalore without even taking a peek.

 

Well, okay. Maybe just a little one. But she’s sure he would do the same.

 

“The Martian Swamps?” she ventures, the first entry she comes across where she remembers him being so young.

 

“Sorry, no.”

 

Turning the pages, she asks, “Market Heykparinik?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Fall of the First Zygon Empire?”

 

“Erm, no.”

 

River looks at him more closely, an unsettling suspicion beginning to surface in her hearts. “Calderon Beta?” she asks slowly. When he shakes his head, she continues, “Area 52?”

 

The Doctor grimaces, and River swallows before asking, “What about Demons Run?”

 

He hesitates, and that’s all the answer she needs. She’s almost glad when he looks down as he shakes his head – at least she can take a moment to squeeze her eyes shut and try to process this.

 

He doesn’t know who she is.

 

She knew this was coming, of course; ever since his older self sat her down and explained exactly what she would have to do, exactly what she would have to _refrain_ from doing. The way he had spoken to her at Demons Run – he knew her, he’d known her for a while… but he didn’t know who she _was_. Who they were, as a couple, as a unit, as a whole. And the man standing in front of her right now knows even less.

 

“Right,” she says out loud. She snaps her book shut, painfully aware of how very full it is compared to his, pages and pages of shared experiences he knows nothing about. “Alright then.” Casting around for something, _anything_ to distract them both from this moment, she nods at whatever it is behind him that he was looking at when she arrived. Everything is off-kilter all of a sudden; who is she to him, this young? How far can she go with him? How far can she _trust_ him? She asks none of these questions out loud, only watching carefully and wondering how much affection she should let seep through to her expression. “What were you doing?”

 

He turns on his heel with an exaggerated twirl, skipping over to the only object in sight that isn’t bleached white. It’s the size of a baby elephant, smooth red metal in the shape of a slightly squashed sphere. As she steps closer River can feel the heat radiating off of it – the Doctor doesn’t, or not in time, because he pokes it with a finger and then yelps when it burns him.

 

River rolls her eyes, leaning in closer. There’s a smell, too, not quite metallic but almost like…

 

“Blood,” she says out loud, stepping back.

 

The Doctor nods, sucking on his finger.

 

“What is it?”

 

His reply is muffled before she reaches out and pulls the finger from between his lips with a wet _pop_. At her pointed look he starts again, “Don’t know – interesting though, isn’t it? A big blob of possibly blood surrounded by all these bones.”

 

“Macabre, I think you mean, sweetie.” Kneeling, River picks up a skull. It reminds her of a Silurian, with big eye sockets and a flattened, elongated crown. “Who were they?”

 

“Who knows? There are loads of them though, look…” He runs around collecting an armful of skulls, stumbling twice and almost poking his eye out on something’s ribcage, and then presents them to her almost gleefully. “They’re all different.”

 

“I hate to point it out, Doctor, but you don’t think all this…” she gestures expansively at their surroundings, “…has something to do with _that?_ ” Grabbing one of the skulls from his collection, she throws it at the metal sphere. It bounces off with a dull _thud_.

 

“Could do, yeah – could not do, of course.” With only a split second’s hesitation, he offers her his arm. “Let’s explore some more.”

 

The landscape looks the same to River as far as the eye can see, but she slides her hand into the crook of his arm automatically, glad that she can at least still touch him as she curls her fingers around the tweed. Small comforts may have to be enough, today. “Lead the way, then.”

 

The sound of their footsteps is eerie in the silence, and they leave a trail of crushed little bones and kicked-aside larger ones in their wake. The variety is fascinating, it’s true – creatures great and small; sentient and non-sentient, she wonders? The archaeologist in her wants to go back for her equipment and date them all – did they all die at once, or is this an amalgamation of corpses dating back to goodness knows when?

 

“What is this place?” she wonders out loud.

 

“Spooky, isn’t it?” the Doctor replies, looking around in awe as only he could do when faced with a giant graveyard.

 

“Almost romantic,” River says – and belatedly realises that that comment makes her just as bad as him. But… “The reflection of the starlight on all these bones… it makes them look a bit like diamonds.”

 

The Doctor straightens his bowtie, tugging her hand upwards where it clings to his arm. “Diamonds, River Song? Have you ever seen the Diamond Sea of Shenaz-Kurtz?”

 

“I have,” she replies, grinning at the memory. “Twice.” Not wanting to bruise the fragile little ego he has at this age, she adds, “I had to go back after a certain someone provided too tempting a distraction from the excavation I was planning.”

 

“River Song,” he says boldly, “whatever could distract _you_ from archaeology?”

 

“Not many things,” she says, tugging him to a halt and turning towards him. “Or people.” She studies his face as she says it, watching him react.

 

He licks his lips uncertainly and she decides that, very definitely, actually she _does_ like him young. All that nervous energy, it’s like electricity. She just wants to lick _him._

 

He surprises her by taking the initiative – a bit awkwardly, yes, but still – and leaning in to kiss her, bringing his big hands up to cup her face. River melts into him instinctively, closing her eyes and allowing a small squeak of contentment to escape into his mouth. This is what she needs, after yesterday. More than anything. He’s still there, he’s still real, and he’s still _hers_.

 

Unfortunately before she’s really ready to let go he grabs her by the arm and shoves her to the ground. She’s about to express her extreme surprise at his forwardness when she spots the creature flying overhead.

 

The _skeletal_ creature flying overhead.

 

“Dear God,” she whispers, watching as it soars gracefully and then, quite abruptly, seems to die all over again and sags, collapsing in on itself and smashing to the ground. “How is that _possible?_ ”

 

“I would prefer to think that it’s not,” the Doctor says uneasily.

 

“Shall we go and take a look?” River starts back towards where the creature landed – if dropping unceremoniously from the sky can be called landing – but the Doctor shakes his head.

 

“Let’s see how far this place extends,” he decides, stepping in the opposite direction. “And if we can find any more dead things coming back to life.”

 

 _Like him_ , River can’t help but think. She thinks she can still feel the older him, his atoms strewn through the sky and the ground and everywhere in between.

 

Aloud, she says, “Whatever you say, sweetie,” and turns to follow.

 

They continue in silence for a while, the Doctor leading the way up a shallow incline and River lost in thought.

 

Not only does he not know her – she doesn’t know _him_ this young. What does he know, how does he behave, how do the events in his future change him? He’s not the same man as the one she said goodbye to yesterday, that’s for certain. He’s not just physically younger; he’s lacking a whole wealth of knowledge and experience that she is used to him possessing.

 

He’s not so scarred, either. Her heart breaks a little bit, knowing what is to come for him.

 

And she’s going to meet him younger still, one day. She’s going to have to get used to this.

 

“There!” he whispers, covering her hand on his arm with his own. A tiny scuttling noise and a tinier carcass skitters past a few metres away – or most of one, anyway. It’s missing its head.

 

“So what happens to it?” River wonders, watching as it disappears back towards the sphere.

 

“I’ve got some ideas,” the Doctor says grimly. He tugs her towards the top of the slope. “Come on.”

 

They both stop short when they reach the precipice.

 

The boneyard extends as far as the eye can see.

 

“Those creatures must have come an awfully long way,” River comments, gaping. She can see another, in the distance, slowly coming towards them.

 

“That thing must be awfully powerful,” the Doctor agrees, turning back to look at it. It’s clearly visible in the distance behind them – a dark red spot in the sea of white.

 

“What next?” she asks, watching it uneasily. It looks so innocuous – which automatically makes it suspicious, in her book.

 

Flourishing his sonic screwdriver, the Doctor starts back towards it, dragging River along with him. “Now we take a closer look.”

 

Halfway there, however, they do something which in retrospect will seem a little bit stupid. Not an uncommon occurrence, overall.

 

A cracking and crunching begins to echo behind them, and they turn to find another skeleton lumbering along in their wake. The Doctor fiddles with his screwdriver and, when it gets closer, scans it.

 

It freezes.

 

It’s still held up by something, though – it doesn’t fall apart like the flying one did. It just stands completely skill, while the Doctor moves closer still to get better readings.

 

And then, when he’s almost close enough to touch it, it opens its jaws and lunges at him.

 

River throws herself in front of him and the creature grabs her viciously by her right arm, its lack of teeth probably the only thing that keep it from biting it clean off. Instead it merely yanks hard enough to dislocate her shoulder, and River screams as the Doctor changes the settings again and does something that makes it let go – he grabs her other arm and pulls her out of the way as he does something else to the screwdriver, pointing it at the skeleton and grimacing as green electricity suddenly flares through it and it collapses with a clatter, bones bouncing off each other as they hit the ground.

 

“Something doesn’t like being scanned,” he remarks breathlessly.

 

River can only grit her teeth. “Sweetie—” she begins, but is cut off by the grinding and clicking sound that suddenly comes from everywhere at once; the sound of bones rearranging themselves. Skeletal creatures rise from the ground all around them, slowly and gracelessly and very, very menacing.

 

“Can you run?” the Doctor asks tightly.

 

“If I have to,” she says resignedly, setting her jaw. “Don’t mind me if I scream again.”

 

 

_River shrieks with delight, holding tight to the Doctor’s hand as the rollercoaster twists and bends._

_“Are you scared?” she shouts, feeling the tug of gravity on her lips as she grins._

_“Terrified!” he replies at the top of his lungs, grinning back._

_“Liar!” she accuses him._

_“Rule one!” he replies._

_“The Doctor lies!” she screams smugly. She remembers._

_“Rule one hundred and one!” He is equally smug, his speech interrupted by an abrupt downward turn. “River Song always knows!”_

_He buys her candyfloss, later, because he says it reminds him of her hair. It’s her best birthday ever._

 

 

Her words clearly make him uneasy, but they’re surrounded and the creatures are closing in and if they’re going anywhere it will have to be _now_. Sparing her one last glance, the Doctor grasps her hand and pulls her away.

 

“Where are we going?” she yells – anything to distract her from the _pain_.

 

“Away!” he yells back, sonicking a creature that is getting to its feet just in front of them.

 

They sidestep it neatly as it falls back down and River shouts again, “Any specific destination?”

 

“I’m sure one will present itself!”

 

They’re nearing a steep part of the hill again now, and River squints when she looks at it. “Is that a cave?” she demands, still at the top of her lungs, shouting to keep from screaming.

 

He looks, the relief on his face clearly visible when he sees it. “Yes!” he declares, changing direction and yanking her towards it. “Come on!”

 

She actually does scream this time, the pain stealing the breath she dearly wants to use to yell at him for being so thoughtless. There are two skeletons coming to block their way; one from downslope and one from up, poised to leap down in front of the cave’s entrance. Swallowing hard, River locks eyes with the Doctor before letting go of his hand and reaching awkwardly for her gun with her left hand; she thumbs the settings up to maximum and aims at the closer of the creatures, blasting it to smithereens.

 

After a few moments, it doesn’t seem to care. The cloud of dust and bone particles reforms and it bends down and _roars_ at her soundlessly; the Doctor grabs her hand again and, apologising profusely, throws her behind him into the cave as he aims his screwdriver, first at the creatures and then at the ceiling, causing it to cave in in front of him and plunging them into darkness.

 

A moment later the screwdriver is illuminating the small space and she can see him breathing heavily, moving towards her with hands outstretched.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks, kneeling down next to where she has fallen.

 

“I will be,” she says through gritted teeth. “If you can just pop my arm back into place, sweetie.”

 

He pales visibly, swallowing. “It’ll hurt,” he warns.

 

“Perfectly aware of that, thanks.” She shifts, turning her right side towards him and looking at him expectantly. “Still needs to be done.”

 

Shaking his head, he glances around before laying the screwdriver on the ground and taking her hand in his. River squeezes her eyes shut and hisses as he begins to pull her arm towards him, exerting a gentle pressure which is excruciating to endure.

 

“Talk to me,” she commands forcefully. “Distract me.”

 

“With what?” he demands, panicked.

 

“Anything! Just keep my mind off the fact that you’re doing _that!_ ”

 

“Right, okay, um – interesting place, this, isn’t it? Nothing like I imagined, love it when that happens. Still got my legs, as well, that always helps. Remember—? No. No, I can’t ask that, can I? Spoilers, right, okay. No.” He pauses, looking up at her, opens his mouth and hesitates. “I like this,” he says after a moment. “Not the relocating your shoulder part – but the adventure part. The just the two of us adventure part. Haven’t really had many of those yet, you probably noticed, but I like it.” He licks his lips. “Do we always have fun together?”

 

“Yes,” she lies easily, just as much to herself as to him. “Always. Every time. Wherever we are.”

 

The Doctor grins. “Can’t wait. You know what?” He shifts, and her shoulder pops back into its socket.

 

River gasps, wincing as she flexes her arm. “What?”

 

He squeezes her hand, stepping closer, and in the dim light it takes her a moment to realise that he’s blushing. “I was a bit overwhelmed at first, you know. But you fascinate me, River Song.”

 

“Do I, now?” She grins back, rather pleased.

 

“Absolutely.” Reaching up, he tugs gently at one of her curls. “I’m dying to find out how your hair works.”

 

“Good.” She smiles as she looks up at him, close and solid and very much alive. “Because I need you.”

 

It’s not something she usually confesses, and she wonders if he really understands what she’s saying to him. She needs him. She can’t be without him. And she doesn’t know what she will do if the day ever comes when she really won’t see him again. There is so much about their back-to-front existence that is complicated and difficult, but this – the fact that she can see him die and then find him again, safe and whole the next day – this makes everything worth it.

 

He will always come back to her.

 

But looking at him now, eyes wide and pulse beating faster against her fingers and bouncing nervously on his feet, she realises that he has no idea what he means to her.

 

And she doesn’t think she can tell him.

 

She kisses him anyway, suddenly and desperately and perhaps a bit too hungrily, though he recovers soon enough. Her arm still aches but she doesn’t care, recklessly pulling him close enough to feel his hearts beat against her chest and hoping he’s distracted enough not to notice that she has one more than he would expect.

 

She buries one hand in his hair and he takes that as permission to do the same, grabbing a handful of her curls and clutching them in his fist, and a sigh escapes her mouth when he moans quietly, kissing her back more boldly and not letting go.

 

Things that are always the same: his hearts, his scent, his obsession with her hair, River ticks off, glad to have that observation confirmed for the youngest Doctor she’s encountered yet.

 

Constants are important when your life is in flux.

 

He breaks away, just an inch, and licks his lips. “River,” he begins hoarsely.

 

“Yes, sweetie?” she whispers, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. Such a nice jaw he has, this one.

 

“We’re trapped.”

 

“I had noticed.”

 

“In a tiny cave with murderous skeletons on the outside and a very small amount of air on the inside.”

 

“Oh, I think we’ll last at least an hour.” She squeezes his buttock and he gasps, swallowing.

 

“And then what?” he gulps.

 

“And then perhaps we’ll be in a better frame of mind to think of a plan, hmm?” Her hands wander up to his chest, up underneath his jacket to rest on his shoulders.

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Sweetie, is something wrong?”

 

The Doctor swallows again determinedly and shakes his head. “No,” he says, and kisses her again.

 

He curls her hair more tightly around his hand, almost too much so, and brings his other hand up to trace her cheekbone with his index finger, pulling away again to study her face as he does so. “Who are you, River Song?” he whispers, watching his own fingertip almost reverently as it caresses her skin. “And why is that so important?”

 

It seems to be a rhetorical question because before she can even think about replying his mouth is on hers again, his tongue teasing it open and probing gently as though he thinks he can find the answer in there.

 

And perhaps he can, to a degree.

 

She kisses him back, wrapping her tongue around his and telling him all she can.

 

I know you. I love you. I miss you.

 

She whimpers when he disentangles his hand from her hair and pulls her closer, breaking the kiss again with a gasp before she leans in to suck at his bottom lip, digging in with her teeth just the way he likes it until she is rewarded with the telltale grunt that means – and she presses her thigh in closer just to check – that he’s _really_ starting to enjoy himself. She grins when her prediction is confirmed but doesn’t let go, sucking harder as she reaches up to bring his hand from her face down to press against her breast and moaning loudly in encouragement when she finally releases his lip and moves straight to the pulse point on his neck, sinking her teeth in as he squeezes and strokes his thumb over her nipple. A muffled _mmph_ is all she can manage when he brings the second hand down to mimic the motions of the first, but she is rewarded by him stepping away to pull her shirt messily over her head, only to pull her in once more and close his mouth over the fabric of her bra, groaning hungrily, and he knows _just_ what to do with his teeth and that is one thing this version of him really does do better than any of the others. Different face means different teeth, of course, can’t be helped – but she definitely has her favourites. “Yes,” she breathes, grabbing him by the hair to yank him away so that she can rid herself of the bra and pull him closer again, gasping when she feels his rough tongue against her skin, teeth nipping none too gently.

 

He reaches for her arm to anchor himself and she yelps in pain, which rather unfortunately causes him to jump away from her as though he’s been stung, the guilt plain on his face as he hovers awkwardly.

 

“Are you alright?” he demands, and then answers himself before she can open her mouth. “No, no, of course you’re not, or you wouldn’t have—I’m so sorry, River, I got carried away, I don’t know what I was thinking – I should have _known_ you wouldn’t like biting, it’s just—”

 

“ _Biting_ is fine, sweetie,” she finally cuts him off, rolling her eyes as she rubs her arm. “It’s molesting my injured limb that I was objecting to.” She cocks her head. “And only because I wasn’t expecting it.”

 

His face is a picture when he looks up, digesting this. It’s like someone has stolen his tea and then given it back with an extra lump of sugar and a jammy dodger. Almost _exactly_ like, in fact. It’s quite amusing.

 

Taking his hand, she smiles at him fondly. “We haven’t done this before, have we?”

 

 

_“And what about you, then?” River demands, smug in the afterglow of what she has already decided will have to be a regular feature of her life from now on. “When was our first time for you?”_

_He smiles that smile that makes him look a million years old and a billion miles away, and says in his Scottish lilt, “Oh, a long long time ago, River Song. When I was very young and you were a fair bit older than you are now.”_

_“Was it amazing?” she says, pulling herself up to cross her arms on his chest._

_He looks up at her and smiles. “Of course it was. You were there.”_

The Doctor swallows and shakes his head. “No. Not exactly.”

 

 _No pressure_ , River thinks, feeling his pulse beating through his slick palm. She presses a chaste kiss to his mouth and wraps the elastic of his braces around her fingers. “Shall we remedy that?”

 

It’s quite exciting, actually, the thought of guiding him through it. She’s never had to do it before. Because she does it now, it would appear.

 

He hasn’t replied yet though – he’s thinking about it far too much, the poor man, but she lets him arrive in his own time at the inevitable answer.

 

Nodding, he steps closer, and she yanks the braces from his trousers and starts to unbutton his shirt, conscious of the moments, not too long, that it takes him to bring his hands back up and trail them across her back, curling his fingers to run his nails across her skin.

 

“Yes,” she says again, letting her eyes fall shut for a second. “Just like that, sweetie.”

 

Emboldened, he reaches lower and traces his fingertips across the skin just underneath her waistband, coming around to unfasten her trousers – almost deftly, and she doesn’t comment on his giant clumsy hands like she usually would. Of course that means he can’t retaliate by proving just what a gift big hands can be, but she can’t have everything.

 

She has his naked chest now, at any rate, and she pushes the shirt off his shoulders to admire him properly.

 

River presses her hands over his hearts – which are working quite hard by now, she notes, but steadily and reassuringly, not like—

 

No. Not fair to think of him as dead when he is very much alive in front of her.

 

Licking her lips, River leans in to press a kiss over each heart before moving downwards. She needs to focus on the _alive._

 

He starts when she touches his trouser button, bless him, and then seems unable to do anything but stare as she very slowly unfastens it and tugs his trousers down his legs. The fabric of his red-and-white checked underpants – oh, she hasn’t seen those for a while, she wonders what happens to them – is stretched over his length, and she reaches out to dip a finger under his waistband and brush against him ever so slightly; she pulls away when he stops breathing and straightens to kiss him again with a giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck.

 

“What next?” he asks hoarsely.

 

“Sweetie,” she teases, nipping again at his swollen bottom lip. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before.”

 

He growls, reaching boldly under her skirt to run both hands roughly up the sides of her legs. She feels her breath hitch when he hooks his thumbs around the lace at the top and he looks at her smugly before very slowly and deliberately getting to his knees and pulling his hands down with him, his fingernails skating down the backs of her legs as he goes.

 

Resting her hands on his shoulders, River gasps again when she feels his fingers dance gently back up the insides of her thighs, so softly it’s as though he’s half hoping she won’t notice.

 

 _Idiot_ , she thinks with a smile.

 

She grasps two of his fingers with her own, guiding them firmly upwards until she has them right where she likes them, and she pushes them roughly over her clit and down into the slick wetness between her legs, bringing them back up sharply before letting go and looking down at him expectantly, pulling the front of her skirt up and out of the way.

 

The Doctor always has been a fast learner.

 

He licks his lips and repeats the motion precisely, inching closer until she can feel his hot breath on her every time his fingers move away. Groaning in encouragement, she bucks against his hand, and is rewarded by his tongue flicking out to taste her and disappearing again just as quickly, replaced by a grin as he looks up and she arches an eyebrow.

 

“More, sweetie,” she says, trying unsuccessfully to sound like she’s commanding rather than begging him.

 

But then he always has liked to make her beg.

 

“More what, Doctor Song?” he breathes, withdrawing his fingers as he gets to his feet and stares at her with barely concealed glee. Smug bastard.

 

Suppressing a shiver at the loss of contact, River looks him up and down.

 

“Enough foreplay,” she decides, and she strips off the rest of her clothes and shoves him roughly to the ground.

 

Predictably he falls backwards awkwardly, limbs flailing everywhere, but he doesn’t complain and his hands quickly find their way to rest on her thighs as she straddles him, lowering herself over him just enough to feel the red-and-white fabric that separates them nudge against the inside of her leg.

 

His eyes roll back into his head momentarily and he swallows, tapping his fingers against her skin in an erratic rhythm as he tries to decide what to do next, so she takes things into her own hands and pulls his underpants down and off with his trousers, sock and shoes. Crawling slowly back up his body she pauses with a grin to press a kiss to the tip of his erection, chuckling when he practically faints at the sensation, and continues forwards until she can kiss his lips and lie on top of him, feeling his warm skin against hers.

 

“River,” he whispers. She almost fancies it’s to distract her from the fact that his hands have come up to grasp her buttocks – honestly. As if she would mind.

 

“Hush, sweetie,” she commands, sits up, and sinks back down over him with a moan which he echoes instantly, his grip tightening as she begins to move.

 

His eyes are focusing again now, and he’s looking up at her with a mix of wonder and curiosity and concentration and terror, and it’s perhaps the most adorable thing she’s ever seen.

 

She won’t tell him, of course. He never does appreciate being called adorable.

 

Her hands roam his chest and settle over his hearts, beating in rapid counterpoint to the slow pace she is setting; she could stand to go a great deal harder and faster, but that hardly seems appropriate when it’s all new to him. He seems to be enjoying himself as is, at any rate; one hand migrates from her behind to her front, and he cups her breast with a sigh, closing his eyes as he kneads it expertly. River hums, placing her hand over his to make sure it can’t escape.

 

His mouth opens slightly and she smiles, wondering what’s going on in his head. Is he cataloguing the shape of her body against his? Is he taking careful note of the sounds she makes when he moves his hands _there_ , when he thrusts upwards _just so_?

 

He’s never had to learn her before, he’s always just _known_ – but now he’s running his hands over every inch of her, frowning in concentration as he gauges her reaction to his fingernails on her back, his pinching her nipples, his reaching down between them to press his fingers hard against her clit.

 

River gasps when he does that, pushing back against his hand and he smirks, opening one eye to gloat up at her. She smirks back and leans down to kiss him, trapping his hand between their bodies and moaning into his mouth. He brings his other hand up over her back to anchor her firmly in place, pressing her body down against his and echoing her, groaning loudly as his tongue intertwines with hers. He pulls back to kiss her cheek, her nose, her eyebrow, releasing his grip slightly to reach her neck and her breast before she pulls away and picks up the pace, putting her hand firmly over his between her legs and interlacing the fingers of their other hands over his chest, feeling his heartbeats hammering under her little finger.

 

His hips are bucking under hers now, and she pushes his fingers more insistently against her, everything harder and faster, her and him and his hearts and hers, and he cries out her name and she sinks down twice more and he brings their joined hands up from his chest to hers to grasp again at her breast and she is undone, and the Doctor is looking up at her with a mix of wonder and smugness and satisfaction and, she decides dimly, still a fair bit of terror.

 

And he’s still adorable.

 

She slows, moving again to cradle his face and to lean in and kiss him, languidly and softly. Shifting her legs, she lies down next to him in the dirt, her thumbs still stroking his cheeks, and he moves automatically to tuck her legs under one of his.

 

River sighs happily. As for him, she can _feel_ the smug. He’s always a little pleased with himself after sex, of course, because he’s _him_ , but she wonders now how long it’s been for him since the last time – she never has asked before. She will, she decides, when he’s older. He’ll be more likely to answer, then.

 

“So,” the Doctor says eventually, studying her face. “Any plans?”

 

River grins. “Yes, actually.”

 

A matching grin, or perhaps even wider, spreads across his features. “Tell me.”

 

“Might be a good idea to get dressed first.” She stretches, enjoying the way his eyes follow the lines of her body. “Could be cold outside.”

 

His braces are lying between them, and she picks them up and drops them on his chest, giggling when he tries and fails to catch them and ends up hitting himself in the eye with one of the clasps. He glares and she looks up at him innocently until she can’t contain her laughter any more, turning to hide her face when his long fingers reach out and tickle her side and she shrieks, rolling away out of his reach.

 

“Not fair, Doctor,” she admonishes, sitting up and tossing his trousers at him.

 

“You can’t expect to attack me and escape unscathed, Doctor Song,” he replies lowly, grasping the trousers and rising slowly.

 

“I can escape whenever I like, sweetie, so you’d better be careful.” She holds up her vortex manipulator and smirks, standing up with her skirt in her other hand and stepping delicately into it.

 

“You—? River!” he exclaims, hurrying to get into his trousers. “You had that all along!”

 

She shrugs, re-clasping her bra. “I generally do, you know.”

 

“But…”

 

River shuts him up with a finger to his lips, stepping forward so that her body is flush against his once more. “Are you complaining?”

 

“…No,” he says after a moment, grabbing her by the wrist with a slow smile and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Is this something you do often?”

 

She laughs then, leaning still closer to whisper in his ear. “ _Spoilers_.”

 

He shakes his head, but his smile is still in place. “You are infuriating.”

 

Stepping back, she smiles at his expression and pats his cheek. “Yes dear. Now, where are my boots?”

 

 

She deposits them a few miles from the red sphere, hoping that news of their presence won’t have spread this far. When they arrive they both frown at their surroundings, and then at each other.

 

“This is… different,” the Doctor says, staring at something over her shoulder and stepping forward, brandishing his screwdriver.

 

River reaches out to snatch it before he can do anything with it. “No more sonic scanning, I think, Doctor. Fun as it was to be stuck in a cave with you, I’m not so keen to dislocate my shoulder again.”

 

“But…” He gestures helplessly. “But they’re all _alive_.”

 

It’s true. They’re standing in a meadow, green with grass and trees and buzzing with insects in the twilight. Fish swim in the deep stream that winds through it, birds roost in the branches, and a deer-like creature that must have been startled by their sudden appearance is just running off into the distance.

 

“Curiouser and curiouser,” River remarks, raising an eyebrow.

 

The Doctor makes a grab for the screwdriver but River holds it out of his reach, and then stuffs it down her cleavage absently as she thinks.

 

“River…”

 

“Hush,” she commands, turning east and gazing back in the direction of the sphere. She can’t see very far; the hills rising up in front of her block her view. Shaking her head, she heads towards them. “Now I _really_ want to know how far those bone meadows extend,” she mutters, leaping over the stream.

 

A _splash_ behind her a moment later tells her that the Doctor hasn’t quite managed it, and she rolls her eyes and turns back to give him a hand.

 

“You’re very lucky the air temperature is so pleasant,” she tells him, pulling him out of the water. “Though I must say I quite like you wet.”

 

His frown at her first remark is quickly replaced by a self-satisfied grin at the second. “Really?”

 

“Wet and naked, preferably, but we mustn’t get carried away.” She turns back to the hills, but she doesn’t let go of his hand.

 

“You are incorrigible, River Song.” His tone of voice tells her that he doesn’t mind a bit – not that she didn’t know that already.

 

“I do my best.”

 

Just before they reach the top of the hill, they find a wolf-like animal feasting on what might well be the deer they frightened earlier. The carnivore runs away as soon as it notices them, scampering off with a whimper and a trailing intestine clutched between its teeth.

 

They stop as one, and look at each other.

 

“Let’s see what happens,” the Doctor decides, kneeling down next to the creature and examining it closely.

 

River bites her lip, pulling the screwdriver out and handing it to him. “Go on, then.”

 

His fingers close around it and he looks up at her, frowning. “It’s warm.”

 

She arches an eyebrow. “I wonder why.”

 

His blush is endearing as he turns hastily to get to work, scanning the creature and then fiddling with the settings for a moment before activating the screwdriver again. When he does this the animal twitches – once, twice – and then climbs shakily to its feet. Seemingly unaware of them, it trots slowly eastwards.

 

“Bone memory,” the Doctor says, twirling his screwdriver thoughtfully. He doesn’t drop it, either – pretty impressive. “It’s a bit like muscle memory; the bones remember how to move together. It’s just a question of giving them a little psychic nudge.”

 

“And energy source,” River surmises, recalling the heat emanating from the red sphere.

 

“Precisely.” He looks up, wearing that look that he gets whenever they’re working something out together. She likes it; and she imagines she’s wearing a similar expression.

 

Wordlessly, they follow the deer.

 

 

_“Is it always like this?” she asks breathlessly, peering round the corner at the Cybermen they are hiding from._

_“Like what?” He fiddles with his screwdriver and then points it over her head. When he activates it the Cybermen look up as one, and their boots clank in unison as they turn around._

_The Doctor grabs her hand and they run._

_“Adventure and danger and fantastic sex.” She grins, firing backwards as they retreat._

_“Yep.” He shrugs. “Basically, yep.”_

_“Good.”_

_He tears his eyes away from the terrain in front of them for a moment to look her up and down. “Though usually we have time to get dressed.”_

_River giggles, squeezing his hand. “How dull.”_

Any hope that the bone creatures have forgotten about them dies when they run into the crocodile skeletons.

 

And very shortly thereafter the crocodiles run after them.

 

“Run!” the Doctor yells needlessly, tugging her along the perimeter of the bone meadow. The bones are scattered more sparsely here than near the sphere, but they still crunch under her feet as they race towards an outcropping of rocks not far away. Something snaps at her ankle and she picks up the pace, almost knocking the Doctor over in the process, and they reach the rocks without incident – the Doctor tripping over his own feet doesn’t count – and clamber up on top.

 

Thankfully death doesn’t appear to have improved the reptiles’ climbing skills, and River and the Doctor stand looking down at them, catching their breath.

 

“This isn’t going to work,” she states.

 

“Well, you’ve got a vortex manipulator,” he points out. “Not that I’m eager to use it again – filthy form of time travel.”

 

“We can’t,” River says shortly. “The battery’s dead.”

 

“What?” His eyes widen and he turns to face her a little too exuberantly, losing his balance and toppling backwards over the only side of the rock with a sheer drop at the bottom. Fortunately she has the reflexes to grab his wrist before he can fall to his death, and she is yanked to the ground and hits her elbows painfully on the stone – and the crocodiles have noticed. “River!” the Doctor squeaks, his toes dangling dangerously close to the snapping skeletal maws. “Help!”

 

“Yes, sweetie.” River sets her jaw and pulls while the Doctor squirms, and after a moment’s yelling on both their parts – she because the squirming is making her shoulder hurt again, he because of the sharp teeth trying to sink into his feet – manages to get him to safety.

 

After collapsing on top of the rock and taking several overdramatic gulps of air, the Doctor fixes his gaze on her again. “The battery’s dead?” he repeats.

 

“Dead as a doornail,” she confirms, sitting down next to him a little more daintily. “Needs to charge for a good few hours, unless the TARDIS can give it a boost.”

 

“One guess as to where the TARDIS is,” he says glumly, glancing out across the expanse of bones.

 

“Of course.” She shakes her head – no use wasting time mourning what they haven’t got. “Any ideas?”

 

“No.” He sighs, idly tossing his screwdriver in the air and catching it again. “Wait. Yes!” Immediately, he brings the screwdriver closer to his face and begins fiddling with the settings, grinning.

 

“Yes?” River repeats patiently.

 

“All we need to do is disguise our _own_ psychic energy so that it matches theirs,” the Doctor explains giddily, not looking up. “Let the sphere steer us the way it’s steering them and it’ll take us right there! A quick zap to the brain should be all it takes!”

 

River stares. “You are not sonicking my brain,” she says firmly. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him, it’s just – well. She’s not sure she trusts _this_ him. With her brain. It sounds like a recipe for disaster.

 

“It’s just a tiny change – like flicking a little switch.”

 

“Oh? And how do we flick it back again?”

 

He pauses. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

 

“Well, that’s comforting.” She crosses her arms.

 

The Doctor lights up. “I’ll set a timer; program the screwdriver to release us.” He stands up, squints into the distance, and crouches back down again. “About an hour and twenty-four minutes should do it.”

 

“You are not cutting our brains off from our bodies for an hour and twenty-four minutes,” she hisses. “Anything could happen. We’ll be sitting ducks.”

 

He rolls his eyes. “Are you always this sensible?”

 

“Only when you’re this reckless.”

 

Unsurprisingly, this brings a smile to his face. “Okay. Let’s be sensible. I’ll send a distress signal and we’ll wait here for someone to rescue us.”

 

“Fine,” River says amiably.

 

“Good.” The Doctor nods, equally amiably, and resets the screwdriver, humming jovially. “Wonder how long it will take?”

 

It takes about thirty seconds for her to crack. She’s quite proud of herself for lasting that long.

 

“Oh, _fine_ ,” she relents. “Go on, then.”

 

His smirk manages to be annoying and attractive at the same time.

 

 

It’s the strangest feeling, not having control of your own body. River doesn’t like it at all – it reminds her too much of a long-ago spacesuit and an underwater trek.

 

This trek is very different, but still definitely unpleasant.

 

She has no control over her body whatsoever; even her eyes will only look straight ahead, so the only way she has of knowing that the Doctor is still beside her is the eerily rhythmic crunching of his boots, delayed behind her own by exactly the one point two seconds it had taken him to point the sonic at his own head after he’d done hers.

 

Her lungs and hearts are also working in precisely timed intervals, down to the millisecond, and for some reason that is the most unnerving thing at all. She feels like a machine. And that is something River Song swore that she would never be.

 

 

_“Why do you like me?” she asks later, when they have escaped from the Cybermen via an icy lake and are lying in front of the fire to warm up – in a huge yet cosy Victorian-style sitting room inside the TARDIS, and River wonders vaguely if this ship will ever stop astounding her – still with a complete absence of clothes._

_His skin is cool against hers when he rests his hand on her upper arm, stroking his thumb back and forth across her shoulder, and he scoffs. “You’re River Song. How could anybody not like you?”_

_“Plenty of people don’t,” she states with a shrug._

_His grip tightens. “Plenty of people don’t know what they’re missing.”_

_“You wouldn’t mind sharing me, then?” she teases, lips curling upwards when she sees the look on his face._

_He clears his throat, schooling his features into an admirably bland expression before replying. “Well. Only with myself.”_

_River feels her eyes widen. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”_

_It’s his turn to grin. “Spoilers.”_

By the time they reach the sphere River is screaming inside.

 

This is worse than any prison. She can’t even reach up to sweep the hair from her eyes. All she can do is watch through the stray curls as she approaches the increasingly ominous red device, excruciatingly aware of her own movements and the fact that she can do nothing at all to steer them. She is trapped inside her own body, and as she nears her destination she realises with increasing dread that the Doctor has miscalculated.

 

Her feet bring her to a halt in front of the sphere with the Doctor at her side. Her hand moves of its own accord, gliding up and then forwards in an unnaturally fluid motion until her palm is pressed against the hot sphere.

 

The powerless agony of the journey is nothing compared to her inability to scream.

 

And then suddenly she’s free, and at the same moment as she yanks her hand back and yells with pain the Doctor does the same, turning to look at her wide-eyed with guilt, the way he cradles his hand mirroring the way she is clutching hers.

 

Before either of them can say anything the bones around them begin to rise up from the ground, swaying menacingly towards them. River whirls to find the same sight greeting her from behind – they’re surrounded.

 

A shout of triumph from the Doctor is followed immediately by the sound of his screwdriver, and moments later the bones collapse again, falling back down with a hollow toppling noise.

 

“Ooh…” The Doctor looks down at the screwdriver, still pointed at the sphere. “Interesting.”

 

River really doesn’t care right at this moment. “Twenty-four minutes?” she says, glaring.

 

“Twenty-three minutes and thirty-four seconds, actually,” he admits, having the good grace to look apologetic. “Probably shouldn’t have rounded up.”

 

“Probably?” River shakes her head – her entire palm is bright red, and it _stings_. “Go on, then,” she sighs. “What’s so interesting?”

 

His face lights up right away and he grins, gesturing grandly at the sphere. “It’s full of DNA!”

 

She blinks. “You mean it’s alive?”

 

“No, no, it’s just a machine… but somewhere inside its casing it’s stored samples of tens of _thousands_ of different species’ DNA. It’s like a big DNA bank—oh!” His grin widens still further. “It’s like Noah’s Ark!” He fiddles with his screwdriver and scans the device again. “Exactly like Noah’s Ark – it’s got an engine tucked away in there as well! So when it’s collected all the samples, whoosh!” He gestures emphatically. “It flies away.”

 

“So that’s why it’s been bringing all these corpses here – to sample their DNA.”

 

“Yep. Had to be corpses – the psychic energy of a living brain would interfere with the signal. But I don’t think it can differentiate between species it’s collected already and ones it hasn’t, at least not from far away. So it lets them go as soon as they’re within scanning range; that’s why there are so many of them.”

 

“But who built it? We haven’t seen any sign of sentient life,” she points out.

 

“All dead, probably, why build an Ark unless you’re going extinct?” He shrugs.

 

River nods slowly. “And what do we do about it?”

 

“Who says we have to do anything?”

 

“Did it or did it not just get samples of our DNA?” She looks at him pointedly.

 

He swallows. “Oh.”

 

“So.” She exhales. “What do we do about it?”

 

“We can’t destroy it!” he protests. “This is somebody’s last hope – a whole species put their faith in this device, we can’t just…” he trails off, looking at her searchingly.

 

“Then what?” she demands.

 

His waving arms drop to his sides. “I don’t know,” he admits. He looks crestfallen.

 

River takes his hand, squeezing it gently – and then more tightly.

 

“What?” he demands, but she’s still thinking it through… “Ouch!”

 

“Sorry, sweetie.” When she lets go, a smile is creeping over her face. “I’ve got an idea. It’s not the same as letting this thing find another planet and spawn new life, but…”

 

 

_“How long will we be together?” she asks him, leaning against the doorframe of the TARDIS and stalling their goodbyes._

_The faraway look in his eyes holds a hint of sadness, but he smiles. “Forever, dear.”_

_“Is that a spoiler?” Can he really know?_

_“No, River Song.” Her hopes are dampened for a moment, but the brilliant grin he breaks into sweeps her back up again. He reaches for her hands, stepping closer until all she can see are his eyes, deep and mysterious and wonderful. “It’s a promise.”_

_Their goodbye kiss is the sweetest she’s ever had._

 

 

“This is _better_ ,” the Doctor declares triumphantly, pushing the TARDIS doors closed. “Much better! They’re going to form the building blocks of the whole universe – what better kind of survival is there than that? It’s brilliant!”

 

“Thank you, sweetie,” River says, piloting them away from the beginning of the universe before he can see that the remains of his older self are out there too. “I do have my moments.”

 

“You most certainly do!” He laughs, running across the control room to swing her into the air and spin her around until she shrieks, painfully reminded of her injuries.

 

“Let me down, you big oaf!”

 

He does, still grinning goofily. “You love me really.”

 

“Perhaps.” She brushes a stray curl from her face, catching her breath.

 

The look in his eyes is her first reminder in a while of just how young he is – but, she decides, she likes it this way right now.

 

There are two versions of him scattered through the universe now, one young and one old, all the way from beginning to end. And one of her with them.

 

It’s enough.

 

“Back to Stormcage?” he asks, turning to face the controls.

 

This morning she would have said yes in an instant, but…

 

“No,” she decides. She sets the coordinates to somewhere quite different – somewhere random and new. “Not yet.”

 

His smile is all the answer she needs.


End file.
